


Written on the Pages

by bluebell08



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Modern Era, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29192949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebell08/pseuds/bluebell08
Summary: Strange how an ordinary, timeworn book can bring two people together in absurd ways.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 60





	Written on the Pages

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s my piece for @konoblog-simps' February server collab event! The theme for this month is Soulmate AU. To be honest, I’m not really sure if this fits the theme because I kind of took a different route for this, but I tried my best that it does hehe. Thank you to @strangeinternetwasteland and @titanialev for the ideas and for beta-reading it!! I hope you all will like it. :D

It’s interesting how, sometimes, the most mundane of things can help bring two people together. How a piece of paper that innocently slipped from a stack one is carrying can land on someone else’s back so conspicuously, or how an ordinary piece of red string connects two people together. You never expected it would actually happen in your humdrum life. And in your case, the object in question was an old, unremarkable, tattered book.

It all started on the first day you visited the library for the first time in a few years. A cool breeze blew as you walked up the front steps of the city library on a cloudy afternoon. It was a nice day that day. Fronting the library was a huge park, and people were enjoying the day as some lounged on the grass while a few children played. You thought it would be nice to join these people in the park, although hanging on your own… if only you weren’t supposed to be cooped up in the library that afternoon.

It was just another one of those days. Ever since you had taken up that project, you barely had the time to do anything for leisure. Most of the time, you had been holed up in your home office, working tirelessly day and night, trying to meet the deadline that was just roughly two months away. You were already feeling jaded having to see the same view of your office everyday, and everyday was beginning to feel just like the day before. And so, you packed your materials and headed to the city library to continue your work there. You needed the change of scenery, after all.

As soon as you went inside the building, you headed straight to the elevator, taking you to your preferred floor. The elevator bell rang and the doors parted, and you walked out of the elevator car. Your eyes scanned the floor and you smiled in satisfaction finding that the place wasn’t crowded that day. Settling for a spot near the window, you placed your bag on the table and sauntered towards the bookshelves.

Your fingers touch the rows of books, gliding along the spines, taking in the sheer amount of volumes around you. Seeing this much bulk of books had always excited you, and you let yourself be completely immersed by the feeling before you started working. Your eyes raked over the different volumes sitting idly on the shelves, arranged neatly per subject. They briefly fell on an old, small brown book wedged between two newer volumes, until they moved on to skim through the other books beyond it. When you already had your fill, you walked to the next aisle and got down to work.

Shelves upon shelves of books greeted you again, and you searched rows for titles related to the topic of your project. You reached out to get one you thought might be relevant and proceeded to scan the other volumes, when your eyes fell on a certain brown book. Brows furrowed, you tilted your head to the side. You swore you had seen the book in the other aisle a while ago. As you peered closer, you noticed that there was a small chipped part on the spine. Thinking that the book just might have other copies lying around, you shrugged off the thought and continued with your search. Although, the idea of them not being arranged side by side in one shelf seemed a bit strange to you. 

You looked for other titles on the other side of the aisle, when you stopped dead in your tracks. That same book was sitting on a shelf right across you! You stared at the brown book for a while and noticed it had the same chipped part on the spine, exactly at the same place the other book also had. Becoming a bit suspicious, but also thinking it just might be mere coincidence, you moved on and went towards the next aisle. However, as soon as you stopped in front of a new shelf, you found that same book sitting in front of you. And wherever you went, wherever your eyes fell, you always found the book sitting conspicuously between the other books as if waiting to be picked up by you. Turning around, you saw no one else in the aisle. How was it that a book could follow a human around on its own?

Warily, you took the book from the shelf. It was old. Signs of wear and tear showed on it’s tattered brown, leather cover. A part of the leather on the spine was already chipped off as you had noticed before. There was no text on the cover. It looked very ordinary, but the idea of it following you around piqued your curiosity, and so you took it with you back to the table along with the other books you had gathered.

As soon as you had placed the books on the table and sat on the chair, you took the old brown book from the stack and began flipping the pages. The pages also showed signs of age -- yellow and giving off an earthy, smoky smell. You scanned the contents of the book; it was a manual of different rocks and materials that could be found in the area from about almost a hundred years ago. Nothing too interesting for you. You continued to flip through the pages and was about to toss it back to the pile of books when something caught your eye. It was a small, neat handwriting written in pen ink. Contrary to the book itself, it seemed to have been written only just recently.

You sighed to yourself, rolling your eyes. The sacrilege. Some people just didn’t have the respect for books, and for an old one at  _ that _ . Why would someone write on a book with permanent ink, knowing it could never be erased??

You flipped the other pages and saw that they also had other writings on them. Monologues written by someone probably lonely or had nothing better to do, and they were scattered all over the pages of the timeworn book. Each sentence showed a snippet of mundane incidents in that person’s life, from the type of coffee they had in the morning to the amount of laundry they had to do on a weekend. However banal it seemed, you couldn’t help but chuckle at how silly some were. The writings continued to be in this tone, until some of them turned a little darker, and your eyes stopped on a sentence.

_ I could really use some sleep right now. _

You kind of felt sorry for the person; you understood how it felt. With the project you were currently handling, you barely even had enough time for yourself. Suddenly, a thought crossed your mind but you shook it off. It was an abominable idea; you’d rather be dead than be caught doing it. But your fingers trembled, and before you knew it, mischief had already taken over you. You took a pencil from your pouch and scribbled right below the writing.

_ Then why don’t you? _

You stared at your own handwriting, feeling shamefully playful and witty. You were a hypocrite, you told yourself. But it was only pencil, you internally justified, and it could be easily erased. Unlike a pen. After you felt a little bit guilty, you reached for the eraser and was about to get rid of the evidence when your project manager suddenly texted you, bringing you back to the original task at hand. You set the book aside and worked on your project, completely forgetting about the little brown book as you worked until the early evening when you returned the books back to their shelves and headed home.

The next day after lunch, you went to the library again. You took the same elevator, got off the same floor and settled on the same table. You went to the same shelves and got the same books. You saw the same old, little brown book sitting on a shelf different from where you last put it last night. Strange, but maybe somebody got interested in the book and checked it out. Suddenly, your stomach flipped at the thought of other people seeing your writing on the page. You immediately grabbed the book and brought it with you back to the table.

Opening your pouch, you took out the eraser. You flipped open the book to the page you had written on and was about to erase your writing, when you found a newer, different one scrawled underneath yours.

_ I can't really sleep. _

You turned your head to both sides, scanning the room before turning back to the book before you, your mouth slightly open. The person had actually replied back to you! 

_ I'm afraid I won't be able to wake up from my dreams. It has been this way for a while. _

You stared at the text, feeling sorry for the person. Without thinking, you took the pencil from your pouch and immediately wrote under the recent writing.

_ I’m sorry. What kind of dreams, if I may ask? _

You placed down the pencil as you looked at the writings, feeling a strange desire to help and a curiosity to know. You worried a little, thinking you might be crossing the line. Was it too forward of you to have asked? But you pushed aside your worries. After all, the worst that could happen was the person to not respond and that would be the end of it. After a while, you closed the book and pushed it aside, hoping that the next day, the person would write back and open up to you.

The next day at the library, you wasted no time. Scrambling to your usual spot, you immediately dropped your things on the table, earning you strange looks from the librarian on the front desk. Immediately, you dashed towards the aisles, heading towards the shelf where you last left the book. But as your eyes casually fell on the first shelf you passed, you immediately saw the book sitting pretty between two larger volumes, as if it was conveniently placed there for you to easily see. Without hesitation, you quickly grabbed the book and went back to your table.

You sat on the chair, flipping the book open to the page you wrote on. Your eyes scanned the page and it immediately fell on a newer writing just below yours.

_ The ones you wish you can run away from. _

The response was concise, vague even. But still, it gave you an idea that the dreams weren’t pleasant. Pity took hold of your heart and before you knew it, you took your pencil again and scrawled beside the recent writing.

_ I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re going through. But if you need someone to talk to, I’ll listen. _

And that marked the start of your daily exchange. The interaction only limited you to one response a day, but this only made you anticipate your visits to the library even more. You looked forward to reading their responses, learning about the other person even if little by little. You talked about everything, from the most mundane things -- how your days went, your favorite food, the books you both read, what each of you loved and hated, to deeper matters in life -- your dreams, your fears and what lay ahead. Their responses were very short and vague, but over time became a bit longer and more detailed, revealing bits about themselves even more. You found the person to be more practical than you, assuring you and bringing you back to the present when your worries drifted you to the future. Likewise, you noticed them to have a tendency to be nostalgic, dwelling in a past you only have the slightest idea of, and you would remind them to enjoy living in the present. You would banter back and forth on the pages, enjoying their wit and sense of humor that matched your own playful nature. Soon after, your conversations filled almost half of the book. Their words were a comfort to you in your stressful times, a novelty during dreary days and a respite from your consuming work. You found yourself more and more endeared by the words of your new friend, and talking to them made you happy. 

Over the course of your exchanges, there were also a few things that you learned about the book. One, the writings apparently appeared to only you and to the other person. You were unfortunate to have been sighted by the librarian when she walked by your table as you were scribbling on the page, admonishing you for writing on the book. But as she picked it up from your hands and examined the pages, you were as surprised as she was when she couldn’t see the writings. Confused and a little bit embarrassed, she returned the book back on the table, and muttered in a low voice that writing on books was prohibited before quietly walking away.

Two, as you had discovered before, you knew that the book followed you around in the library. After keeping it with you for a day, you would tuck it away in a safe place back in the shelves, hidden from the curious eyes of other library patrons. But as you would come back the next day, the book would appear before you in plain sight, sitting on a shelf different from the place where you hid it the other day. 

“You know, there's actually an urban legend about that,” one of your close friends, Kurenai, mentioned to you when you told her about it. “They say that there’s a mysterious century-old book in the city library that follows around two people --  _ soulmates _ , they say -- bringing the two of them together. Only the two people can also see the writings they make on the pages of that book. Could  _ that _ be the book in question?”

You scoffed at the idea, shaking your head. You just didn’t believe in the idea of soulmates, let alone a mysterious, magical book bringing two people together. It was a silly idea to you. And even though the events that had transpired matched with what your friend had told you, you just couldn’t bring yourself to believe it. After all, they were just merely coincidences,  _ right _ ?

One afternoon, you decided to borrow the book from the library. You were rushing to beat a deadline that day and couldn’t read nor write a response at that time. You knew it would only take a minute to respond, but you also wanted to go back to the other pages and read some of their writings that you had missed out. Surely the other person wouldn’t mind, you thought. After all, you would just borrow it for one night, and you planned to return it the next day when you visited the library again.

You walked to the librarian’s desk, holding the book in your hand. When the librarian took it from you to check the code, you were both surprised that the book wasn’t registered in the library’s system. There was no way to know the title nor the author as they weren’t written anywhere in the book.

“That’s strange,” you heard the librarian say, and she wondered if it was another patron’s and they might have left it in the library. Before you could protest, you heard yourself squeak as you watched the librarian toss it in the Lost and Found corner of the booth. 

Disappointed, you made your way back to your table, gathering the other reading materials you took. As you returned them to their shelves, your hand stopped mid-air as your eyes fell on a very familiar tattered, leather-bound book. Your eyes widened as you took in the sight. It was the book! You were surprised, but somehow expected it, too. Of course, it would follow you around, you thought. Slowly, you checked the front desk to see if the librarian was looking. When you made sure the coast was clear, you immediately set the books on the shelf before you and quietly grabbed the book, sneaking it inside your bag.

Later that night, as you were sprawled on your bed, you flipped open the old, tattered book and began reading the writings. You smiled to yourself as you reread older exchanges between you and the other person. You could still remember the first time you came across the book, and how your conversations started. It was strange how things had started, how they were working, and how they led you to where you were currently. And despite you couldn’t understand those strange circumstances, you were grateful they led you to meeting a new friend. Even though you haven’t seen nor really met the person, you enjoyed talking to them about your life. And through some indescribable force, somehow you felt as if you and the person were connected, as if you were meant to meet each other through a small, timeworn and ordinary book.

Suddenly, you stopped as you caught yourself thinking about these things. It sounded to you as if you were admitting that the urban legend was true. Chuckling, you shook your head. Regardless if it was true or not, you didn’t deny that the book did help make your humdrum life a little exciting. How you came across the book was mysterious and a bit weird, yet you couldn’t help but be thankful it found its way to you.

You figured you must have fallen asleep the next moment you opened your eyes. Rubbing them, you sat up straight and automatically felt the right side of the bed, reaching out for the book. Your eyes shot wide open upon realizing the book wasn’t there. Scrambling out of bed, you checked if it was under the covers, pillows or on the floor. It wasn’t! You even checked your bedside table and drawers to see if you might have placed it there before sleeping, but the book was nowhere to be found.

You stood in the middle of your room, trying to recall where you could have placed the book before you went to sleep. You didn’t remember getting out of bed the night before. In fact, you were fairly sure that you had fallen asleep with the book in your hands. It shouldn’t have left the bed, and if you accidentally pushed it off while sleeping, it shouldn’t be too far from you. And it wasn’t anywhere in your bedroom! You felt your heart race as you became more and more confused. Where could it be? Tired and even more bewildered, you gave up thinking about it and proceeded to prepare yourself for the day, deciding to look for it later after work.

The walk to the library was dreadful. You thought over and over where you could have placed the book. As you reached your usual floor, you couldn’t help but blame yourself for even bringing the book home with you. If it had stayed in the library, it wouldn’t have gotten lost. You were so preoccupied with your thoughts that you ignored the smiling librarian as you passed by the front desk, once again earning strange looks from her.

You dragged your feet towards your usual table, setting down your stuff and walked towards the aisles. Your eyes desperately searched the shelves, hoping you’d find the book waiting for you in plain sight just like it used to. But anywhere you looked, strangely the book was nowhere to be seen.

You sighed deeply, feeling downhearted. You thought about the other person and the disappointed look on their face as they searched for the book. Dread pooled in the pit of your stomach. What if you could never find it? You would never be able to talk to them ever again. And you weren’t even able to get their name nor their number! The thought of never meeting them made your heart sink.

As you turned to the next aisle, you continued to trudge along the way, reaching out for the reading materials you needed for your project. Your hand stopped mid-way as you noticed a familiar-looking tattered brown, leather-bound book resting inside an open bag. Instinctively, you immediately shot out your hand and dove towards it, only to stop as the bag moved and you quickly realized the bag belonged to someone else.

Your gaze quickly transferred from the bag to an equally surprised pair of lazy, onyx eyes. You quickly assessed the features of the stranger, and noticed that he had a long, thin scar on his right eye. He was wearing a face mask, and even if it hid the lower part of his face, you could tell that he was good-looking. Your eyes traveled upward and saw that his hair was silver, thick and unkempt. His figure towered over you, and like you, he stood there frozen and confused, wondering why your hand was outstretched towards the bag slung over his shoulder. His eyes left your face and traveled downwards to your hand barely touching the book.

“Uhh...umm…”

His eyes widened, and before you could defend yourself to say that it wasn’t what it seemed, you saw his eyes surprisingly flashed a hint of relief. 

“Oh? There it is!” He took the book from his bag, holding it in his hand. “But that’s just odd. I don’t recall putting it in my bag.”

“Uhh.. I don’t understand what’s happening,” you mumbled as you continue to stare at him wide-eyed, becoming more befuddled.

“Hmm?” He looked away from the book and back to you. “I should say that to you myself.” He nodded towards your hand still outstretched towards his bag, and there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Blood crept to your head, and you felt heat grow from your face and down to your neck. “It’s not what you’re thinking!” you said, your hands suddenly in front of you. “I was just looking for that book, and I saw it in your bag, so...”

His gaze traveled to the book and back to your face. He stared at you intently and a bit suspiciously. “This book? …Does it belong to you?”

“Umm no, not really but…” you trailed off, feeling embarrassed. How could you explain it to him so plainly without sounding crazy? Suddenly, a thought occurred to you. “Wait… did you say you were looking for it, too?”

You saw him blink twice, and he chuckled, placing a hand behind his head. “Well, I was looking for it last night in the library but I couldn’t find it. I went back this afternoon to look for it. I figured somebody must have taken it, but that would be weird because…  _ unless _ …”

The gears in your head started working as you slowly realized what was going on. “Last night…?” You knew the library was open at night, but something told you that this detail was one of the missing pieces to a puzzle forming in your head.

“Yes, last night.” This time, his eyes were again fixed on you, and he let his words come out rather slowly. “I can’t sleep at night, so I spend my nights in the library to read.”

You stared back at him, your eyes equally cautious as you watched his expression carefully. “How did you say you came across the book again?”

He regarded you carefully, and his eyes never left yours as he spoke, “It’s hard to explain, but everywhere I go, it just --”

“ -- follows you around,” you spoke at the same time, helping him finish his sentence. Both your eyes widened in shock, and you felt your mouth open. In your head, you could imagine the final piece of the puzzle finally laid down, completing the whole picture.

After a while, his expression changed into a tender one, and the corner of his eyes wrinkled as his eyes smiled. “Well, I didn’t expect I’d finally meet you today.” You stared at him for just a little bit longer, and you let out a soft sigh, lips slowly curving into a smile. 

“I know,” you spoke softly, your eyes never leaving his face as you took in the sight of him. “You never told me your name.”

“Kakashi,” he replied, his expression still soft, never taking his eyes off yours.

“ _ Kakashi _ …” you recited his name softly, letting the syllables roll off your tongue.

You saw his eyes crinkle at how you pronounced his name, and there was a playful expression in them. “I told you my name. Don’t I get to know yours?”

“It’s (Y/N),” you replied, smiling softly.

“ _ (Y/N) _ …” He uttered your name the same way you did his, as if making sure he wouldn’t forget it. You continued to look at each other’s eyes for a while. For a moment, it seemed as if the chaos of the world faded into the background, and you felt an unexplainable pull between the both of you. 

“Are you… busy this afternoon?” Kakashi broke the silence, his eyes curving into crescent-shaped lines that you were starting to find endearing. He brought his hand again on the back of his head. “Maybe we can grab a snack, talk about things… I mean, having to read only one or two sentences a day can be pretty unsatisfying,” he chuckled.

Your face lit up upon hearing his invitation, and your soft smile widened into a sweet, yet playful grin. “Well... I’m a bit busy at the moment. But maybe you can accompany me while I work? I mean, I don’t mind having the company. And after all, it does seem frustrating, like you’ve said.”

“Oh?” His expression turned into an amused one, and you could imagine a grin forming underneath the mask. “Well, if that’s the case, maybe we can also continue the conversation after work at the coffee shop downstairs? If you find the short conversations so frustrating.”

“Sounds lovely,” you smiled back, and you both laughed quietly.

Strange how things fell into place. In your mind, you tried to make sense of the strange events that had occured that led you both to where you were now. You couldn’t explain how a book that strangely followed you around, that strangely disappeared from your possession, eventually found itself in the possession of the only other person who could see the writings on the book. Of that person you exchanged words with. Of that person whose words comforted you and delighted you every single day.

As if you were destined to meet this way. As if you were fated to meet, anyway. 

As if you were  _ soulmates _ .

And as you walked back together to your table, side by side, talking and laughing over how strange yet fascinating the events were, you thought that maybe that urban legend about the old, tattered book bringing soulmates together was true, after all.

  
  
  
  



End file.
